


Teach Me

by zaniamsextoy



Series: One-Shots [4]
Category: One Direction
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Drug Use, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaniamsextoy/pseuds/zaniamsextoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn gets high in the bathroom and is encountered by a long, hard, quite possible, the most beautiful cock he has ever seen in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teach Me

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt given to me by a reader on Wattpad. Enjoy!

Smoke. 

It does the opposite of its nature. The gray smoke actually helps clear my mind. It’s another day in this hell hole and I’m smoking on the side street, feeling at ease and unclouded. Wearing my signature leather jacket over a white, low-cut V-neck, the cigarette bounces between my lips as I straighten my collar. My quiff is gelled back in an Elvis Presley hairdo, the dark tinted sunglasses I stole from a high-end dealer covered my wandering eyes and I had a chill, relaxed persona. It didn’t take a scientist to know that I looked good. 

Damn fucking good. 

Inhaling the last of the nicotine, I flick the butt onto the road, slowly ease the gray smoke passed my parted lips, and kick off the fence I’d been leaning on for the good half of first period. I hated school. I hated the losers here. And I hated being governmentally forced into going to school when they have nothing here to teach me. 

I’m gonna live my life off of my wealthy inheritance, what only people wished they could make in their lifetime. I was already set. A lifetime supply of liquor and cigarettes and you could call me a happy man. So, what was the sense of this bullshit? 

Strutting through campus with my hands stuffed in my pockets, the bell had rung and I’m walking in a sea of endless faces, making my way to the next class. But then I realize that I hated the loser teacher for my next period. The Irish bastard who had nothing to do but pick on kids twice his age. He was a true pain in the ass when it came down to the strictest teachers in the entire school. But I would give him one thing. 

He was in his mid thirties, and still looked good. Sometimes at classes he wore cut-up tees that showed off the side of his body, and it . . . was . . . ripped. 

Mr. Horan had the washboard abs, tight pecs and that snobby ass persona that I had once in a while. Sure he was a top grade asshole, but he still was hot as fuck. 

Not that I’m gay or anything. I just appreciate the beauty of really fucking sexy people, as I am one of them. I cut through the crowd, making my way over to the boys bathroom. 

Kicking the stalls in, there is one locked stall and I sighed. I glance underneath just so see the type of shoes the dude was wearing. You could tell anything by the type of shoes a guy wears. If he wears Nike’s he’s assumed to be athletic. If he wore sandals, stay away! No style whatsoever. Converses, he either wore a lot of black or was those hippie wannabes with fake glasses and a bad taste for attention. 

The dude in the closed stall was wearing green sneaks. 

Eh, it could have been worse. I took the stall next to him just to spite him and clicked the stall shut. Pulling out the rolled up joint in my cigarette box, I lit up, and took a big inhale. The smoke instantly soothed me, my face muscles numbed, and my head felt like it was floating on clouds. It felt so fucking good to be high. 

Better than sex!

For a second I hear tapping, and I think I had just imagined it, but when the tapping increases, I look down and the guy with the green sneaks is waving his hand on the bottom of the stall. Thinking he wanted a drag of my weed, I hand it to him but he shakes it away. Then, in place of his hand, the guy is kneeling on the ground, his long, thick cock sticking out. 

“Holy fuck!” I said, chuckling. It must have been the weed taking its effect. Was this dude serious? Was the tapping some morse code of some shit that meant I’m knocking because I want you to do . . . what exactly to his dick? Suck it? Fuck it? Burn it with my joint? 

I chuckled, taking a long drag of my weed then butting it on the stall and placing it back into my cigarette box. The dude’s cock is still in my stall throbbing and waiting. I can’t help but laugh more. Is this seriously what guys did? This is the first time I had ever seen this type of kinky shit. 

I tap the tip of the dude’s dick with my shoe and I hear him hiss in the next stall. 

“You fucking bitch,” the hard, authoritative voice said. But it isn’t a sound of disapproval. Rather rough enjoyment. He’s thrusting his hips wanting more. 

“You kinky son-of-a-bitch,” I said. Hunching down, I give it a couple slaps with my hand and it wiggles from side to side. I can’t help but chuckle. This is so fucking hilarious. And who the fuck is this dude? For all he knew I could have been a psycho bitch and had cut off his dick as soon as he stuck it in. 

“Give me your asshole,” he said with an accent. British? Irish? 

I wasn’t sure. That was some good shit I smoked. 

“You fucking wish,” I laughed, ready to walk out of the stall. 

“I’ll pass you for my class if you give me your fucking ass and your discrepancy, Malik.” Malik? He knew who I was? How? Who the fuck was this guy? “I’ll even save you the embarrassment of telling everyone in school that you were just feeling a dick in the boys bathroom. One bad thing on you and you can kiss your reputation goodbye. 

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked, confused. Before thinking it further, he was just in the stall next to me. Why not just fucking bust down the door and put this fucker in his place? Stepping out of the stall, I burst the other door open with a swift kick. Who I see kneeling is a big fucking surprise, and he’s looking at me with those deep blue eyes. 

“Mr. Horan?” I asked, shocked. “What the fuck are you trying to do? You want to get with me you old, sick bastard? 

He was in his mid thirties, but he still looked young for his age. He had blonde hair, blue eyes and a smirk on his lips when he stood up, sat on the toilet, spreading his legs wide-eagle and his long cock standing at attention. “You don’t show up to my class, you don’t do the work and your grade score for my class is a zero. If you want to move to the next grade, you have to pass my class. But since exams are only a week away, and you can’t pass even if you aced every worksheet and quiz I hand out with flying colors, you would still have a below average grade on your report card.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” I scrunched my eyes, trying to avoid his dick. 

He wore brown trousers and a green basketball jersey. 

“I call it negotiating,” he grinned sinisterly. “A passing grade for a pass at that sweet ass of yours.” Mr. Horan made a whimpering noise. “From day one I knew I wanted to fuck you. To put your ass in place. You’re such a cocky badass and I like to destroy them in my free time,” his grin widened. “When I’m through with you, you’ll be screaming like a little bitch and waning on my hand and foot.”

“You fucking wish, Whore-an,” I smirked, feeling higher than the clouds. That was really some good ass weed I smoked. And maybe this was just an illusion of some sort? “This baby,” I rubbed his ass, and Mr. Horan licked his lips, “has never been touched. And it’s definitely not going to start now.” 

I turned around feeling wobbly. I have never felt this high before. Just as I made it to the sink to wash my face with some water, I could feel a presence behind me. 

Mr. Horan’s blue eyes stared darkly through the mirror. I knew that he was still naked because no way he could have dressed that quickly. I stared back at him with hard, dark eyes. There was only a small smirk playing on my teacher’s lips. 

Just then, Mr. Horan has his hands on the sink, driving me closer into the porcelain. I can feel his cock on my back, and my head is so blurry that I freeze for a moment. I can feel the heat, the throbbing, every vein on his huge cock, through my black jeans. I don’t understand why I’m not pulling away from the embrace or screaming for him to stop. 

For the first time, having it physically touching me, I wanted it. 

Did that make me gay? 

I smirked. 

Gay for my strict, obviously gay for my ass teacher. Mr. Niall Horan: strictest asshole in school that wants to plow my ass with his Irish dick . . . Seems legit. 

Slowly, I move my ass to the thrumming of his twitching cock and I can hear Mr. Horan let out a satisfied moan. His hands are on my waist and I stare at his reflection in the mirror. His head is facing up, looking at the ceiling with heavy lidded eyes. He’s biting his lower lip, a blast of hot air leaving his nostrils as he’s rubbing himself over me. Then, looking down at my ass, he stares back at me in the mirror and smiles wickedly. 

“Now for the main course,” he says never breaking eye contact as he undoes my jeans, which fall to the floor and my boxers follow. “You got yourself a nice piece,” he grins, grabbing a hold of me and stroking me off. 

I finally break eye contact looking down at the friction and liking my teacher’s hand on me. His hands are soft, quick and agile. His strokes are smooth, knowing full well how to make the moment last. Still staring at me, Mr. Niall Horan motions his cock at my entrance, teasing my hole. 

He smirked, again. 

“Your virgin ass is in for a major beating, Malik. It’s about time someone puts your cocky ass in check.” He smacked my ass and I yelped from the sudden contact. “You squirm good,” he cooed into my ear, rendering my tender spot another smack.

I gritted my teeth together. 

“Fucking fat ass you got,” said Mr. Horan. “It’s time for you to learn not to tease me.”

I smirked. “Then teach me.”


End file.
